Control Freak
by Whaleen
Summary: Pronyma seeks power and decides that Kratos is a good place to start. And so the struggle begins... Kratos/Pronyma hate sex.


Hello there everyone! This is something I began writing over a year ago, abandoned, but decided to come back to this week. I think that because of this the beginning part doesn't quite match the tone of the rest of it...but maybe that's just me. I hope you enjoy it and please leave some feedback if you don't mind. Thank you!

**Control Freak**

The empty hallways of Vinheim echoed with the sharp clacking of footsteps. Power was what Pronyma sought. Not necessarily physical strength, but power over others. She hungered for leverage she could use to lift herself closer to Yggdrasill. She desired nothing more than to be his favorite, his most trusted. She strived to help him reach his ultimate goal. Anything to serve her lord. His right-hand man just happened to be the perfect opening to wedge herself into.

_Kratos_, she thought with a smirk. The seraphim was hardly her favorite person in the world. Pronyma greatly resented him, a human, for retaining such a high rank within Cruxis. His position, though, however much she hated it, could be utilized in her favor.

Pronyma paused in front of a door. Her lips quirked upward for a second before she entered. The room was a small library, dark and chilled like the rest of the castle. The air was stagnant, a reminder that the passage of time meant little within these walls. A sofa sat in the middle of the space, stiff and deep burgundy with dark oak. Standing in front of it was her target. His stony expression fit in well with the rest of the room.

"Lord Kratos, you came," she commented in lieu of an actual greeting. The door shut behind her with a dull thud. Kratos's expression didn't change.

"Why did you call me here?" he asked succinctly.

A short, dry chuckle barked out of Pronyma's throat. "I suppose I shouldn't beat around the bush." She slowly closed the distance between them. "You're such…good friends with Lord Yggdrasill. So _close_." Her words dripped from her tongue. "He trusts you." A pause. "Relatively speaking," she amended with a slight simper. Kratos's eyes narrowed a fraction. She opened her mouth to continue, "I—"

"You're asking me to help you curry favor with Lord Yggdrasill," Kratos deadpanned. It was hardly difficult to see where this was going. "You forget that putting in a good word for you requires that I like you."

Pronyma's smirk fell. Quickly recollecting herself, she conceded coolly, "That's precisely why I am here."

Kratos sighed quietly, his eyes falling shut briefly. He didn't have time for this. Pronyma saw her opportunity. Suddenly the space between them no longer existed, and her lips were pressed to his. Kratos's eyes flew open in that same instant. He wrenched her hand from his shoulder and roughly forced her backwards.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" he asked with the same flat expression. The only thing different was the irritated tone in his voice.

Pronyma was hardly fazed. Chuckling throatily, her tongue flicked out to run over her lips. "I've been following you for some time now. I know that you have been helping Lloyd and his group." Her tone was smug. "I could easily tell Lord Yggdrasill everything."

"You would tell him anyway," he returned, seeing through her ploy. He had not realized that she had been following him this whole time, however. The revelation came as somewhat bewildering.

Her teeth gritted, annoyed. She still had one more weapon, though. "I could easily tell Lloyd…certain things. About why the man who betrayed him is trying to help him now. Why he can't leave him alone."

This held more weight with Kratos. His eyebrows furrowed. "And what would you gain from that?"

By this time, Pronyma had long since discarded her gaudy costume. Clad in nothing but the tall red boots, she advanced toward Kratos. Her breasts bounced gently with each step. His eyes dipped downward for a short moment before ricocheting back to her face. Authority exuded from her expression, eyes alight with a jeer.

"Nothing. I would gain nothing." Her voice was low. One arm snaked sinuously over Kratos's shoulder while the other hand softly traced his jaw line. He remained staring straight ahead. "Simply knowing gives me power over you."

As she spoke, her lips drew closer to his. With the last word she firmly kissed him. Before his mind could comprehend what he was doing, his lips began to move against hers. Pronyma moved her hand downward from his shoulder, taking his hand in it. She worked nimbly, and his glove fell quietly to the floor. Her hand guided his to her breast and Kratos cupped it, fingers slowly stirring to life. His other hand rested on her hip. It was as if he had no control over his body's reactions. He couldn't for the life of him explain why he was engaging in such intimate acts with Pronyma. It had been such a long time since he had felt the touch of a woman. Perhaps he was simply reacting in the way he could remember, immersed in tantalizing memories of a time long ago.

Pronyma's fingers entangled themselves in his hair, holding him close to her. She set to work on one of the many belts garnishing his body. Kratos swatted her hand away, taking the tedious task for himself. He was already losing himself – the goal was to keep control away from Pronyma as much as possible. With both hands buried in his hair, Pronyma slipped her tongue into the kiss. She was in full control of this. Reveling in her power, she nudged Kratos toward the sofa behind him. He sat down, their kiss never breaking for an instant, and she straddled him. It gave her a height advantage, a fact that she savored. Pronyma slowly gyrated her hips against him. Kratos gasped softly. This was a major breach in his usual self-control. His mind refused to let his body retaliate; refused to let him take control of the situation. As much as he would like to believe otherwise, his body was not so machine-like as to be wholly above the pleasures of the flesh.

The last of the belts came undone and he lifted the top portion of his uniform over his head. It was discarded behind the sofa. With his hands now free, he toyed with Pronyma's breasts. She shivered as they were cupped, squeezed, stroked. Pronyma could feel Kratos hardening beneath her, and she grinded against him with increased fervor. A burst of excitement shot through her as she heard him groan. Her ruby red lips could not help but twist into an arrogant smirk as they parted from Kratos's mouth. His eyes reopened and instantly hardened to their usual stony state, any previous indication of his pleasure gone. His hands fell from her breasts. Pronyma's smirk remained plastered across her face as her hands roamed Kratos's toned chest. There was not a shred of anything tender in her touch. It was hunger for power, and nothing more.

"You never give up without a fight, do you?" she sneered. "You're already halfway there, why not just…give in?" False innocence peppered her suggestion. She continued down his chest, over his abdomen, until her fingers brushed against the top of his white pants. They strained with his growing erection. Despite his advanced state of arousal, Kratos snorted at her request.

"You don't have as much power as you think you do, Pronyma." He was beginning to regain some control of himself, disgusted that he had allowed her to overpower him in such a manner. Pronyma's smirk deflated to a harsh frown.

"What are you saying?" she hissed, before recomposing herself and replacing her smirk. Her hand dipped lower to secure around the base of his cock. Kratos grunted, caught off-guard by the sudden gesture. Pronyma leaned in to roughly recapture his lips as she worked his length free. "Are you so sure?" Her hot breath mingled against his lips before she plunged her tongue inside.

While Kratos's body fully entertained his deeply repressed sexual appetite, his mind struggled to rise to the surface of a churning whirlpool of vivid memories. Memories of a young woman with long brown hair flitted through his mind, and his body lost itself in her. His lips did not feverishly kiss the lips of the woman in front of him, but the soft lips of his fond memories. His hands did not hungrily grab at Pronyma's breasts, but at the breasts of a girl who existed only in a separate lifetime. Yet he knew it did not match up. The tender actions constructed with love and imbedded in his memories did not fit in with the rough desperation he experienced in that moment.

Deep loathing for the woman perched on his lap filled him. Everything about her was wrong. Kratos firmly grasped her buttocks with both hands. In a single, fluid motion their positions had reversed – he was in charge now. It had happened to quickly, Pronyma could hardly register it. He had her pinned beneath the weight of his body. Her legs were spread wide apart, and he was positioned between them. She growled, realizing that her advantage was lost, and wrenched her lips from Kratos's. It was his turn to smirk, face still only inches from hers.

"Are you so sure?" he mocked, throwing Pronyma's own words back at her. She glared up at him. The idea had been for _her_ to have the upperhand. _She_ was supposed to have control of the situation. _He_ was supposed to be the toy, not her. She struggled against him, but his hands quickly pinned hers to the firm cushion on either side of her head.

"Changed your mind, I see. You began this, now we are going to finish it." A strange blend of his detestation and his urgency for sexual release dictated his words and actions. He was in control of Pronyma, but control of himself had fled from his grasp. Kratos pressed against her entrance. Her struggling slowed as a gasp popped from her lips. He eased himself inside, groaning in satisfaction due to the heat surrounding him.

"Bastard," Pronyma managed to sputter out. "Inferior be—"

She was cut off as he roughly smashed his lips to hers. Affection was completely absent from the equation, the struggle for power occupying its place. Now fully inside her, Kratos began to rock his hips against her. It was fast, harsh, hard. She fought back a moan but it escaped from her control. He groaned with increasing volume as he allowed his instincts to take over. The heat and wetness tightly enveloping his length made is easy to lose himself.

Gaining speed and losing control, Kratos thrust in and out of Pronyma. Harder, faster, until her gasps and moans collapsed into one continuous string and wound throughout the stale air of the room. With a final gasp, her hips bucked upward and she released herself around him. The tension fled from her muscles and she lay panting beneath Kratos. She turned her head to the side to tear away from his oral assault and catch her breath. He continued to slam into Pronyma until her heat overwhelmed him entirely. Grunting loudly, he came inside of her.

Kratos took a moment to recollect both his breath and himself. His cool rationality was slowly returning after its prolonged and rare hiatus. He wasted no time in disengaging from Pronyma and standing, his usual impassive expression in place. She shot another glare at him, still panting heavily. Losing control to a human, an inferior being. Not just any inferior being – the one she despised above all else. Pronyma angrily picked herself up from the sofa and set about gathering her discarded garments. Kratos was already calmly refastening the many leather belts of his uniform.

She could still salvage this, she realized, and her bitter anger dissipated to a smirk. "I trust you will put in a good word for me with Lord Yggdrasill, Lord Kratos?" It was difficult to restrain herself from sarcastically spitting out Kratos's title, seething with great dislike for him as she was.

Kratos paused in his dressing and directed his gaze at her. Pronyma did not like the look in his eyes. They coolly mocked her, claimed superiority. "I already told you, that requires that I actually like you," he reminded her.

The smirk fell clean from Pronyma's face. She clenched her teeth together in rage and disgust. "You son of a bitch," she hissed, rapidly closing the distance between them. Her hand rose, and desire to strike it across his face rose as well. No one made a fool of her, especially not some _human_. Kratos grabbed both her wrists, foiling her obvious assault. He was annoyed with himself for winding up in this situation, but also annoyed with her for thinking that she could obtain something from it. His annoyance showed plainly on his face.

"I suggest you dress yourself and get out of my sight." His voice was cold steel. Her eyes narrowed to slits, but she yanked her hands free and did as she was told. The fact that Kratos watched her the entire time, expression as tauntingly impassive as ever, did nothing to alleviate her ire. Once clothed, she stalked over to the door and pulled it open with more force than was necessary.

"I still fail to understand how you're one of Lord Yggdrasill's favorites," Pronyma spat out, before exiting and slamming the door shut.

Kratos sighed, combing a hand through his bangs in annoyance. They were damp with sweat from his romp on the sofa with Pronyma. He was not entirely sure of who had won that. "Won", because, far from love-making, it had been a battle – both against Pronyma and against himself. He did not feel as though he had won anything. His definition of winning did not generally involve engaging in rough sex with women he did not particularly care for. He still could not explain what exactly had come over him to behave in such a way. It was both embarrassing and unnerving. Pronyma had clearly not won either, though, if her livid retreat had been any indication. He sighed again, hoping to expel his frustration from within him.

Perhaps it had been a tie. Such was the nature of the game called power – one could win and lose at the same time. Dwelling on it like this would help nothing though, and, getting his thoughts under control, he calmly and quietly exited the room.


End file.
